


Insurance

by queen_of_nerds1026



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Based on a Tumblr Post, Character Death, Crowley Dies (Good Omens), M/M, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20239174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_nerds1026/pseuds/queen_of_nerds1026
Summary: What if Crowley used his insurance of Holy Water in the way Aziraphale feared most?Based off an amazing piece of fan art on Tumblr by smudgeandfrank, go check out their art!





	Insurance

**Author's Note:**

> So... oof, I spent like three hours writing this. Got no regrets. Also, my first Good Omens fic so hopefully it's not too bad.
> 
> If you wanna check out my other Good Omens posts, follow my Tumblr queen-of-nerds1026
> 
> Or you're interested in my O.C (who I almost put in this but decided against) check out my Instagram queen_of_nerds1026

Angels didn't dream.

Did they? No. No, they possibly couldn't, could they? How would that be possible?

Aziraphale rarely slept in his whole life on Earth. Well... he wasn't a conventional sleeper, at least. And over the years, human beds had gotten more and more comfortable...

Only as Aziraphale slept, he wasn't dreaming. He was having a nightmare.

The space around him was black, swallowing up any light that dared shine against it. There was no warmth. No wind. No feelings. Just emptiness... and the voices. No, not voices, one voice. His _own_.

_"We're not friends!" _

Somewhere around him, he heard the cry. "Hello?" Aziraphale called in the black, bottom lip trembling.

_"We are an angel and a demon!" _

The black walls around him were shaking. The ground beneath him rocked. The void of the emptiness became suffocating. It became freezing. It sank deep into his body, chilling his bones. Goosebumps rose on his arms, a harsh shudder spasmed in his back. He could his breathing become more and more labored.

No. Oh no. He finally understood what he was hearing. His fight, just last night, at the bandstand with Crowley. He said such horrible things to Crowley, his best friend. He screamed in the face of the demon, with words harsher than the demon had ever said to him. Well he was scared! The world was ending!

_"We're on opposite sides!" _

He hadn't meant that! Well... he hadn't meant like that, but it was true. Mostly. He was an angel. But... he couldn't agree with Heaven. Especially recently, with wanting the world to end and wanting to destroy the demons. He couldn't imagine life anywhere but on Earth. He didn't want to imagine a life without Crowley.

_"I don't even like you!" _

That one felt like a knife through the heart, or at least through his human body. His knees wobbled, unable to stay upright, he collapsed to his knees and heaved.

"No!" He managed to cry into the dark. "That's not-" Not what? He asked himself. Not true? What he meant? Not the right word choice? All of that, actually, was correct. Aziraphale was an angel, love was in his blood. He knew exactly when he fell in love with Crowley. In love with Crowley... it was true, why deny it anymore? He had known Crowley since the Garden of Eden, 6,000 years. They had been together since the Garden.

In the beginning, it had just been fascination. He was enamored with the strange redheaded demon. Fascination became admiration sometime around the 530s AD, perhaps when they met again in Wessex. Crowley was so funny underneath that black knight helmet. Aziraphale remembered the twitching smile on Crowley's lips when the angel dumbly asked if 'ferment' was a porridge. Admiration turned to adoration in 1793 when Crowley rescued him from the guillotine in Paris. He'd taken the demon to lunch and fought a smile while watching Aziraphale dig into a plate of crepes.

Then came fear. Yes, fear. Aziraphale remembered that day. 1863, St. James Park. Crowley asked for Holy Water. Aziraphale told him, no, cried to him how it would kill him. He couldn't do it. He stormed off, leaving the demon behind. Years passed where Aziraphale felt empty without Crowley. He tried to push the conversation of Holy Water from his mind. He went on with life, well into World War 2. That's when he realized he was in love. 1941, and Crowley had saved him yet again. Not only from Nazi's (half-witted, he remembered Crowley insulting them) but from the unbearable regret of losing priceless books, or so he thought. Crowley saved those books, returning them to the angel with a smile. It made Aziraphale's heart swell and his chest tighten. He knew it since then. He was in love with Anthony J. Crowley.

Through the darkness, he could barely see his trembling hands in front of him. This was torture, hearing all the hurtful things he'd yelled at Crowley. How he turned his friend away, when all he wanted to do was keep Aziraphale safe.

_"I am a great deal holier-than-thou." _

Aziraphale hissed at that. That was just rude to be rude. Crowley wasn't an evil demon. Even if he didn't like he hearing it, Crowley was nice at heart. Aziraphale was the mean one. In this case, he was the evil one.

_"There is no "our side", Crowley! Not anymore. It's over!" _

How could he say that? None of that was true. Not a single word that came from his mouth was true. Whatever excuse he tried to muster died in his throat, choking him to the point he wheezed, lurching forward, having to catch himself on his hands before falling against the freezing black ground.

"I get it!" He yelled into the blackness. "I was wrong! I didn't mean it!" There was no reaction, no call from the void.

Then heard it; a scream. A shriek. A curse of pure pain. All with Crowley's voice. Somewhere in the black, Crowley was in agony.

Aziraphale was on his feet again in a second, his pocket watch bouncing against his stomach as he felt surge of energy lift him. He needed the energy if he were to find Crowley.

He started off walking. Nothing in the blackness changed. His shoes echoed as they tapped along. Crowley's voice would fade, then come back, twice as loud.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale yelled

Suddenly, he was running. The back flaps of his coat hitting his legs as he ran. He tried chasing Crowley's screams, hoping to reach his friend in time.

In time for what? He slowed his pace to a walk again. What was he saving Crowley from? What could he do? This nightmare seemed endless. Nightmare... nightmare... nightmare! That's right! This was a nightmare! He could wake up if he- He squeezed his eyes shut and counted backwards

_Three... two... _

"One!" Aziraphale bolted up, perfectly straight in his bed. His fists were knotted in the white and blue polka dotted comforted. His hair was in a tumbled mess. He didn't care about any of that. All that mattered was he was awake now. Awake and could check on Crowley.

The moon was shining in silver beams through the cracks in the blinds of the windows of Aziraphale's bookshop as he descended the stairs from his living space upstairs. His only telephone was in his office. Perhaps if they could save the world, he'd ask Crowley to teach him to use one of those smartphones.

Crowley... He hesitated when he reached the phone. He wanted to call Crowley and apologize, but how? Would Crowley even forgive him? The heavy weight on his heart told him he didn't deserve it for what he'd said, yet Crowley had never been one to hold a grudge, even at God after all these years. He stared at his phone for a few for moments, hesitating before sighing. He had to try. If the world was going to end, he wasn't going to let it end with Crowley believing Aziraphale hated him.

He picked up the phone and called. Three rings, then a click

"Hello-" Aziraphale started

"-This is Anthony Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style."

Voicemail "A-ah, Crowley it's... it's me, Aziraphale, heh, obviously you could tell by my voice. Listen, um, I wanted... I wanted... I wanted to talk to you. Call me back, or maybe meet me somewhere?"

Aziraphale hung up and waited. He waited, and waited, and waited, pacing in front of the phone for almost an hour. Crowley never called back. Aziraphale tried calling again. He was sent to voicemail again. That was unlike Crowley, and also very worrying.

Panic was swelling in Aziraphale's chest, causing his heart to thud in his ears. He couldn't just sit here and panic like this. He had to see Crowley. It was 2am, no cab driver would be around his shop at this time of night. Truthfully, though, he was not worried about performing miracles as he dressed out of his pajamas and magically appeared in front of Crowley's apartment door.

"Crowley?" The angel knocked three times with the knuckle of his index finger.

There was no answer.

"Crowley?" He tried again

Still no answer.

He didnt like breaking in, but he didn't feel like he had a choice. He waved his hand over the door handle and heard the lock click and the door slid open slowly, creaking in a way that Crowley would've never allowed.

Aziraphale had been to the apartment before, a few times, but this time felt different. It felt cold and empty, like the black of his nightmare. He ventured in, running the tips of his fingers against the stark grey walls, following the dim light from Crowley's sitting room behind a moveable wall. He assumed Crowley was inside, sleeping in his chair and just didnt hear the phone ring. Yes... that was a perfect explanation. It fit Crowley magnificently.

"Crowley? So sorry for-" Before Aziraphale could finish his apology, he stopped, a shivering running through him. Something in Crowley's apartment was radiating power, energy, _holiness_. Had another angel been here? No. It didnt feel like that.

Drawing a shaking breath, Aziraphale turned to Crowley's sitting room, about to walk in and awaken his friend, when he felt his heart break and his mind shut down.

It took a few moments to process, Aziraphale felt like he'd gone blind. His vision was cross-eyed. One leg still raised, midstep. His hand outstretched to greet the demon who wasn't there. All that was left, was a puddle of sizzling water, a cream checkered thermos and a pair of steaming sunglasses.

Crowley's sunglasses.

"Oh my God." Aziraphale had never used the Lord's name in vain like this, but he couldn't help himself, not with the scene in front of him.

Aziraphale staggered the few feet before crashing to his knees. The sudden collision with the floor had hurt, but any pain he felt was nothing to the ache in his heart as he reached forward with a shaking hand. He touched the water, cool and radiant, and gasped. This was the Holy Water he'd given Crowley back in the 60s, after yelling at him, refusing to give him a suicide pill. But here he was, on his knees, staring at Crowley's discarded sunglasses in the puddle of Holy Water.

"C-Crowley?" He whispered

Tears rushed from his eyes with more force than Niagara Falls. They streamed in thick rivers down his round, chubby cheeks and splashed down on the floor, mixing with the puddle.

This couldn't be true, it couldn't! Crowley can't be gone! He tried to think of an explanation, an excuse, but nothing came to his mind. He was sobbing, violent sobs that racked his chest and sent him coughing and choking. His stomach lurched, threatening to spill out the contents of his previous meal.

Aziraphale had never felt this before. Not this kind of sadness, pain, agony. His chest was tight, crushing his heart. His muscles ached across his body. He couldn't stop the pitiful sobs of "Why?" and pleas of Crowley's name as they spilled from his lips and into the emptiness that surrounded him.

What was Aziraphale going to do? Right now, he didnt want to do anything. All he could do, was lift Crowley's sunglasses in his fists and scream another heartbroken sob. Crowley had been with him for 6,000 years, and he chased him away with anger and cold words. His voice had been so brutal.

"I'm sorry," He hiccuped through the tears, feeling the salt on his lips "I'm so sorry, Crowley." His best friend was gone. It was his fault. He pushed Crowley to this edge.

"I didn't mean those horrible things I said to you, I never could." He didn't know if Crowley could hear him, if his spirit still existed somehow. Oh well. That wasn't going to stop him. "We are friends. Best friends. And I do like you. More than that. Crowley, I'm sorry I never told you. I love you. And now you're gone..."

He lifted Crowley's sunglasses to his lips, planting a sad, chaste kiss on each lens. He didn't move for a long time. The world ending had slipped his mind. After all, a life without Crowley was a life he didn't care about. To Aziraphale, nothing mattered anymore.


End file.
